


she was everything to me, except mine

by northernstars



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, First Kiss, Or Is It?, Unrequited Love, surprise! lucille loves her too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 20:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17753369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northernstars/pseuds/northernstars
Summary: You look… exactly like you.It hurts. It hurts more than she ever thought it could. But Lucille smiles back at her, and somehow that makes it better and worse at the same time. Damn her.Being in love hurts. Being loved back? That’s a whole different story. A much better one.





	she was everything to me, except mine

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short fic about what Valerie felt throughout the episode but it got a little out of hand.
> 
> A massive thank you to Sam, without her I would have never been able to finish this. 
> 
> Title from Jennifer Worths memoir, but I changed the pronoun to make it gay

_You look… exactly like you._

It hurts. It hurts more than she ever thought it could. But Lucille smiles back at her, and somehow that makes it better and worse at the same time.

Damn her.

-

She watches as Cyril helps her into the sidecar. She smiles brightly, giggling along with Sister Monica Joan. She has to. If she lets the pretense drop for only a second, she’ll cry. And that is simply not an option.

She keeps smiling until her cheeks hurt, only letting it fall as she closes the bedroom door behind her. Trixie is not there, and she’s never been more grateful.

She keeps it together until she’s four steps into the empty room. Then the first tear rolls down her cheek. Followed by a second, then a third.

After a while, she stops counting.

-

She doesn't sleep much that night.

Trixie comes back a few hours later and gets ready for bed quietly.

If she thinks Valerie is asleep or is content with letting her pretend that she is, she doesn’t know.

“Are you okay?” The soft whisper sounding impossibly loud in the dark room.

She doesn’t answer.

She knows Trixie knows. Has known for quite some time. She’s never been able to hide her growing fondness for Lucille very well, and Trixie is perceptive in ways Valerie wishes she wasn’t.

She never asked or prodded, somehow knowing Valerie would come to her when she was ready.

She never did. And now she fears it’s too late.

-

It’s dark when she hears the front door downstairs close. Followed by Lucille’s soft tread over the stone floor, then up the stairs and into the room on the other side of the hall.

She hears muffled voices, Phyllis probably inquiring how it went.

The room grows quiet soon after that. She doesn't know if that’s a good sign or not.

-

There is a steaming cup of tea on her nightstand when she wakes up. Next to a wet washcloth. She must look awful, and a quick check in the mirror tells her everything she needs to know.

She looks like a wreck.

The cold cloth does wonders for her puffy eyes, and she slowly sips the cooling tea while she tries to work a brush through the seemingly never-ending knots in her hair.

She sends a silent thank you to Trixie and hopes it gets easier from here on out.

-

It doesn’t get easier.

Somehow she makes it through breakfast that morning without bursting into tears. How? Hell if she knows.

Lucille is oddly evasive when the others ask for details. Making remarks about the weather and how nice the music was instead of what she must know everyone wants to hear.

Valerie hears the uncertainty in her voice. Or is that just wishful thinking?

Her sleep-deprived brain can’t make up its mind, so she lets it go. Instead, she fakes a smile and pretends to be happy for her friend.

She avoids Trixie’s gaze the entire morning.

-

People around her notice. Her patients notice. Used to the always bright and smiling Nurse Dyer, this quieter, muted version of herself feels out of place.

They ask, offer her cups of tea and home-made suppers in an attempt to cheer her up. She thanks them politely but turns every single one of them down. Lying and telling them the heat is causing her restless nights and that she’s just tired.

Most of them believe her. And she brushes off the ones that don’t.

-

It’s in the moments that she lets her guard down that she struggles most, that are the most painful.

To fight down a smile when their eyes accidentally meet, or to hug her after a particularly rough day. Things that had become so natural in their relationship as they grew closer to each other. Things she misses so dearly now.

She still finds herself reaching for Lucille, no matter how hard she tries to push the urge down. Lucille always had a calming effect on her, and before all this, it was so easy to touch her. To not have to jerk away from her when their hands brush when they pass each other in the hallway.

She misses it. But she knows it’s her own fault.

-

Lucille goes on a second date with Cyril a week later. Everyone is excited for her, and even Valerie can see that he’s a good man. No matter how much she wishes he wasn’t.

He makes Lucille happy in a way that Valerie would never be able to. Would never be _allowed_ to.

She brings him around for tea afterward.

He proudly sits next to her when they eat, telling tales of his life growing up in British Guiana and making everyone laugh until their stomachs hurt.

It almost feels like he’s been around for months instead of days, and everyone adores him.

Valerie laughs along with them, poking at the food on her plate but not eating much. She can feel Lucille’s eyes burn holes into her, but she refuses to look her way.

She’s pretty sure the carefully placed mask will slip if she does, and Lucille will know something is wrong.

So she focuses her attention on Cyril, taking in the way he looks at Lucille. His eyes go soft and gentle when his gaze comes to rest on her, and Valerie wants to hate him for it. But she can’t.

It’s not his fault that she fell in love with her best friend.

-

Trixie drags her along for a night of dancing. She doesn’t say it, but Valerie knows why.

It’s to forget, even if only for one night. But she doesn't want to forget, not yet.

She ends up drinking way too much beer, and Trixie has to hold her up as they walk back to the convent in the dark of night.

It’s Lucille who opens the door for them. It’s Lucille who takes hold of her other arm to help her across the threshold. It sends a shiver up her spine and she feels a dopey smile bloom on her face.

“Hey there,” she slurs. It’s a wonder anyone can even understand her at this point.

Her eyes lock with Lucille’s, and for the first time since she’s met Cyril, Valerie doesn’t look away. Finds that she _can’t._

She doesn't know how long they’ve been staring at each other wordlessly, but it’s Trixie’s voice that eventually cuts through her fogged over brain.

“Let’s get you to bed, sweetie.”

“Hm tired.”

“I know you are. Just stay awake for a few more minutes so we can get you settled, okay?”

She tries to take a step forward and almost falls over if it wasn’t for the two women holding onto her.

She’s too drunk to notice the look of concern that flashes across Lucille’s face. She can hear her mumbling something to Trixie, and she sways on her feet to get close enough to be able to hear her.

But Trixie is already leading her towards the stairs, and when she wakes up the next morning, head pounding and feeling sick to her stomach, she can’t recall a single thing that happened after she downed her third pint.

She decides that’s probably for the best.

-

As the days wear on, she gets better at pretending. She works hard to appear normal, forcing herself to smile more and trick everyone around her into thinking that she’s herself again.

She goes from bone tired and weary to almost manic with excess energy. She directs it into taking on more responsibilities. Finding more things to do so she has to spend less time between the walls of Nonnatus House.

Where Lucille is.

If she pretends hard enough, maybe one day she can even make herself believe that she’s fine.

-

“Did I do something to offend you?”

Valerie's head shoots up. Lucille is standing in the door opening, having cornered her in the kitchen while she washes up the mugs for afternoon tea.

She looks back down to her hands covered in suds, several blue cups bobbing up and down in the hot water. It only takes her a second to compose herself.

She’s getting better at this.

With a disarming smile, she turns back around, “of course not! Why would you think that?”

Lucille leans back against the door frame, arms folded. “You’ve hardly spoken a word to me all week and you keep missing our nightly Scrabble games.” She takes a breath, straightening her back, “if I did something, please tell me so I can fix it.”

“Nonsense. I’ve just been busy, that’s all.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounds weird and wobbly.

At least it’s not a complete lie. Even before all this mess, when she was swamped with work, it had never stopped her for freeing up as much time as she could to spend with Lucille.

She knows Lucille knows that too.

“Valerie.”

Her name leaving Lucille’s lips with a sigh, and it makes her heart clench. She risks a glance, a fleeting look at the woman she’s grown to love so deeply.

Lucille looks tired, worn down. And Valerie wants nothing more than to take her in her arms and hold her until she’s made it all better. But she can’t. So she turns back towards the sink, scrubbing away at the invisible dirt.

“I miss my friend.” It’s said so softly Valerie isn’t sure if it was meant for her to hear. But she does. And it _hurts_.

She wants to scream at her. Wants to push her aside so she can escape this bottled up tension hanging in the quiet kitchen. Instead, she stays rooted in her spot, hands hanging motionless in the now cold water. It clings uncomfortably to her skin, the cold creeping all the way into her chest.

She says nothing and keeps impossibly still, eyes fixed firmly on the shiny chrome of the tap. Squeezing them shut when she feels them beginning to burn, desperately trying to stop any stray tears from forcing their way out.

It takes Lucille several long minutes, that feel like hours to her, of tense silence before she turns around and leaves. And when she does, Valerie finally feels like she can breathe.

-

It all comes to a head on a sweltering afternoon in the beginning of September.

Valerie is on her knees in Fred’s allotment, pulling out weeds. Fred assured her he didn’t need the help, told her she was already doing too much. But she insisted.

She’s been successfully limiting her contact with Lucille for weeks now. And since that moment in the kitchen, Lucille also appears to have given up on trying to get her to talk.

Until this exact moment, it seems.

Valerie spots her as she puts her bike back in the stall. Their eyes meet for a second before Valerie looks away.

Dark clouds are rolling in from the south, electricity thrumming in the air, foreboding a thunderstorm. _Perfect_.

Then she hears the squeaking sound of the metal gate being opened. Within a few steps, she can see the tips of Lucille’s shoes in her field of vision. Reluctantly she looks up.

“Hey.” She tries to sound calm.

“I got another letter from my mum today,” Lucille starts, “she’s asking about you.”

Valerie doesn't know how to reply to that, so she focuses her attention back to the task at hand, hoping it will make it clear to Lucille that she should leave. If she didn’t know any better, she would almost say Lucille sounds at her wit’s end. A final attempt to mend this gap between them.

“I don’t know what I should say to her. How do I explain the distance you put between us without knowing _why_?”

It’s like a punch in the gut, and for a moment Valerie forgets to breathe.

“How, Val?”

“Maybe you could tell her about your new boyfriend instead. I’m sure she would much rather hear about that.” She can’t keep the sneer from her voice, and she immediately regrets it.

“So that’s what this is about, then? You’re _jealous?_ ” Valerie didn’t expect that.

She huffs, angry now, throwing the trowel she had previously been using to the side before getting up. Now eye level with Lucille, she feels her confidence dwindle.

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous of you?” It comes out a lot less strong than she had been aiming for.

“Oh, I don’t know. But it’s the only reasonable explanation I’ve been able to come up with to justify your behaviour.”

“My behaviour? What is that supposed to mean?”

Lucille pinches the bridge of her nose, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips.

“You think I haven't noticed? How you won’t look me in the eye anymore, or even let me come close enough to touch you.” She pauses, takes a step forward, “Even now you’re looking everywhere but me. This didn’t happen before I met Cyril. I was foolish enough to think you actually cared about me.”

The clouds above them break open, soaking them in chilly rainwater in a matter of seconds. Thunder rumbling loudly. They stay where they are.

Val opens her mouth to say something, but Lucille is not done yet.

“My mum would be so happy for me! I found someone who loves me for me… So why am I not happy? Why does your support matter so much to me? Why does your blatant disapproval hurt so much?”

Her voice cracks at the end, and she takes a step back. “I don’t even know why I’m still trying. You’ve been very clear about not wanting to have me anymore.”

She turns around, right hand coming up to her face to wipe at her eyes. She takes another step away from Valerie, and suddenly she can’t bear the thought of letting her go.

In a flash, she reaches out and grabs hold of Lucille’s arm, halting her mid-step.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Why are you doing this, Valerie? Why are you making this so hard? _Why?_ ”

“Because I’m not jealous of you! You’ve got it all wrong!” It bursts out without a thought, suddenly so tired of hiding, of hurting Lucille because she can’t put her own feelings second.

“What do you mean?” Her voice is soft now.

“I have been so selfish, Lucille.” Tears are now streaming down her face too and she can’t stop them. “It’s killed me to see you this happy, while I know I’m hurting you by not being the friend you need me to be.”

“But why, Valerie. Why? Explain it to me so I can understand. Please.”

It makes her feel even worse. Even now, after all, Valerie has done to her in the past few weeks, Lucille still wants to understand her. To help her.

Valerie makes up her mind. She deserves the truth, she owes her that much. She will just have to deal with whatever comes next. It can’t possibly be any harder than this has been.

So she takes a deep breath and fixes her gaze on something just to the left of Lucille’s face.

“I envy _him_. More than I’ve ever envied anyone else in my life.”

Thunder claps, and for a second Valerie is afraid Lucille is going to slap her.

But then Lucille surprises her. Again.

She steps closer, now almost nose to nose with Valerie.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“I need you to.”

_To hell with it._

“I’m in love with you.”

The world around them stills. The rain beating against her skin dulls to hardly noticeable background noise. She doesn’t dare move, afraid that if she does, the relative safety of this moment falls apart.

But Lucille isn’t moving either. Her eyes are wide, almost comically so. Her lips are parted slightly. In disbelief or disgust? Both options sound terrifying, and Valerie doesn’t want to find out.

Until she can’t take it anymore.

“Please say something?” She makes no attempt to hide her vulnerability, what good what that do now anyway.

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, you incredibly dense, beautiful woman.”

So Valerie does.

-

Lucille meets up with Cyril one last time, and when she gets back, Valerie doesn’t ask how it went. She doesn’t think she needs to know what was said between them.

She opens her arms to Lucille in the privacy of her bedroom, content with just holding her tightly.

She can do this now, without feeling like she’s doing something wrong. It’s the best feeling in the world.

And as Lucille looks up at her, a smile on her face and a single tear in the corner of her eye, Valerie wipes it away with her thumb.

And kisses her.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I know I went for one of the most cliched love confessions ever, but I love it so who cares? I’ll be honest though, that scene did _not_ want to be written. So if it feels stilted and awkward, that’s entirely on me.


End file.
